


Behind Closed Doors

by arrowsong



Series: Behind Closed Doors [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 05:41:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3197477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrowsong/pseuds/arrowsong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the imagine:  Imagine being the daughter of the Master of Laketown and being in a secret relationship with Bard</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind Closed Doors

Your footsteps echo lightly down the long wooden corridors as you step quietly towards the winding stairwell.  Casting a quick glance towards his study, you strain your ears for any trace of movement from within. The only sound to greet your ears was the soft snoring from your father, the Master of Laketown, as he laid passed out cold in his armchair thanks to the sleeping draught you mixed in his evening tea.  

  
Hastening your steps, you slip into the servant’s stairwell and exit the large house through the back, slipping your hooded cloak over your head as you scurry on to the main street in the rain.  You navigate the streets with relative ease, the rain has driven most people indoors, but even in the crowded streets you could find your way blindfolded.   You made this journey countless times, but that did not stop your from fearing every time that tonight would be the night you were caught.  You lived in constant fear of Alfrid, and the way he was constantly skulking about, following you, harassing you, never letting you have one moment’s peace.  But the promise of seeing him made you brave such fears, he gave you the courage you so desperately needed in these dark times.  Tonight you needed such courage given the news your father divulged unto you at dinner.

  
Finally, after taking several twisting and winding cobble backstreets you find the familiar little old inn where, for almost a year now, you and him had been meeting in secret.   It started with you meeting a couple times a month when you both could spare the time; as your passions grew, your amorous meetings increased in frequency until you were meeting at least once a week.  It took no small level of deceit, trickery, and ingenuity on your part in order to escape the watchful eye of your father and his faithful watchdogs.  You started adding the sleeping draught to your father’s tea almost six moons ago, after ingestion he would lay in a deep slumber guaranteeing you at least eight or nine hours with your lover before you had to worry about returning.  

  
You walk around to the back of the inn and rap on the small green wooden door three times in rapid succession.  Seconds pass before an aged little old man opens the blinds to see your rain soaked face.  You’re greeted to the sound of the dead bolt sliding just before he opens the door to usher you in.   
Checking over your shoulder quickly to ensure you were not followed you duck inside.  The innkeeper greeted you with a kiss on the cheek as you slid him a small bag of coins - a thank you for his service.  The keeper and his wife would have done it free of charge, but you insisted on paying them for their kindness.  Taking your arm in the crook of his, he escorted you to your usual room.  As you climbed the numerous stairs in the narrow stairwell you chatted lightly with the innkeeper.  He gave you news that always made your blood run cold.  He hadn’t arrived yet.  You tried to tell yourself that none of the things you were imagining had happened, he was just running a little late.  You knew he had a criminal past, it was partially why you kept the affair hidden from your father, but that did not stop you from worrying about his capture every time he was late.

  
“Don’t fret my lady, he is late is all.” The innkeeper assured you before kissing your cheek, leaving you outside the heavy wooden doors of your room.  Smiling to yourself, you found the hearth already tended to with a warm, roaring fire crackling away.  You step inside slowly, still cautious, and look around quickly.  To look at it, it was nothing special, but to you it was everything.  These four walls had more value to you than all of your father’s fortune.  Should you be struck down tomorrow where you stood, you would have no regrets in life because of this room, and because of him.  Truth be told though, you were grateful to be alone for a few minutes before he arrived.  So much transpired in the month since you had last seen him.  True, you caught glimpses of him in the market place while you did your shopping for the week, and he was selling supplies from his barge, but you usually had Alfrid or some other spy on your tail, which prevented you from talking with him.  So you settled for stealing tiny, unnoticed sideways glances of him, but he noticed.  For every time you looked at him, he was looking right back at you giving you one of his secret smiles.  Looks and secret smiles were not enough to sate you though; you needed him, you needed to hold him, to feel him beneath your skin, and the weight of his body pressing down on you as all traces of the world beyond your little piece of everything slipped from memory.

  
Removing the hood from your head, you smooth out your dampened tresses as they pool past your shoulders.  Staring at the flames dancing before you in the hearth, so caught up in your thoughts constantly reliving the horrors of your conversations with your father at dinner, you nearly miss the sound of the door unlocking.  Rapidly turning where you stand, you see him looking exhausted, leaning against the doorframe.  “Bard?”  You exhale, so happy you fear you might cry.  You run to him without another thought.

  
Seeing you standing in the warmth of the fire’s light, relief floods his face.  Throwing his bag to the floor and closing the door with his boot, he meets you in the middle of the room.  His body envelops yours in a tender embrace before his lips find their way on to yours.  The kiss is every bit as fiery as the man behind it.  His one hand remains planted on your lower back, kneading the tender flesh, while the other hand snakes its way up until his fingers are threaded in your hair.

   
Melting in to the kiss, you instinctively rest a hand on his chest.   Your fingers curled through the open laces of his shirt so the soft tufts of dark hair that peppered your lover’s chest grazed your fingers.  You use this position to pull him in closer to you, deepening the kiss.  All thoughts of everything you need to discuss with him slowly flee your mind as something vastly more important takes its place.  Lust.  You have ached for this man and his touch for almost a month now while you waited for the draught to near completion.  

  
“Bard,” you whisper between laboured breaths, finally breaking your kiss.  He doesn’t allow you to finish your thought however.  Freeing his hand from your hair, and pulling his other from your body, you immediately miss their presence.  Instead, he cups your chin in the palms of his hands, stroking your cheeks lovingly with the soft pads of his thumbs.

  
“I’ve missed you,” he whispers in a husky tone before pulling your body in close to his once more.  “You do you have the time, don’t you love?” He asked pulling back from the embrace momentarily.

  
“Aye, I told you it’d be strong enough tonight.” You whisper with a wicked glint in your eye.

  
“Then tonight you’re mine?” he asked hopefully, his fingers trace down your side at a tantalizingly slow pace.

  
“All yours my love,” you confirm before leaning up to kiss him once more.  This time is was your fingers to twine through his midnight black hair as the equally dark stubble lining his upper lip rubbed against your face.  You nip his lower lip playfully before moving in a southern direction.  Your kisses trail down his chin, along his jaw line, nipping gently as you go, until you find his ear lobe.  

  
He lets out a wolfish growl in response as you nip again at the sensitive lobe.  Hungry for more than just fiery kisses he keeps you pressed firmly against his muscle toned body as he walks forwards, until you fall back onto the plush bed. 

  
“And here I half expected to land on the floor,” you simper.

  
“I’d take you on the floor if I had to.  I don’t care.  I just need to feel your warmth around me.”

  
“Such poetry flows from my lovers lips,” you tease seductively, lying back on the bed, not lifting your gaze from the hungry look behind your lover’s eyes.

  
“If you wanted pretty words and gentle actions then you should have met with one of your other suitors tonight.”  He replied roguishly, shrugging off his long wool lined jacket before climbing on to the bed hovering just above you.

  
“What other suitors,” you snort.  “You scared all of them off.”

  
Bending down to kiss you once more he didn’t even bother to look apologetic.  “That’s because,” he said between each kiss, “I don’t like other men touching what is mine.”

  
“I am not your property,” your argue hotly, sitting up.

  
“I never said you were,” Bard replied softly looking back at you, straddling your lap.  “But you feel this,” he placed his hand over your rapidly beating heart.  “This is mine.”   Removing his shirt entirely, your breath hitched as he guided your palm to his bare chest allowing it to rest above his own heart.  “Just as this is yours.  I like being the only man to have your heart, because for as long as I live you will be the only woman to ever have mine in such a way.” 

  
Bard’s tender words came as some surprise to you as they were rather uncharacteristic of your usually gruff and burly bowman.   Part of your attraction to him, apart from his muscular build and handsome dark visage, was that he was unlike any man you had ever known.  Bard was burly and rugged having spent most of his life as a bowman, and working his barge, but he was so much more than that.  He was the people’s man.  The citizens of Laketown adored him and he stood for their rights, which often landed him in trouble with the law but that never stopped him. You admired that. He was as good of man as any, but there was something more, something sweet and affectionate about him that he only shared with you.

   
“Every day is hell without you,” you admit to him.  “And they are only going to get worse.”  You remain still under his gaze.  How can you tell him?  But how can you not?  Your fathers news affects him just as much as it affects you.

  
“What is it?” asks Bard softly, taking your hand in his.  He rolls off of your lap and lays beside you, brining your chin in his direction so you look at him.  “Why are you talking as though this is the last night we’ll spend together?”

  
“No reason,” you lie trying to force a smile. Except that it might be you think bitterly to yourself as fresh hot tears well behind your closed eyelids.

  
“I may not read as many books as you, but I can read your face.  There is something weighing on your mind.  Tell me.”

  
Taking a deep breath you rush all the words out at once for fear that if you stopped you may never finish.  “I am to be married.”

  
Bard flinched at the words but remained by your side.  “Has your father already chosen you a husband?”  He asks slowly, fearing to hear the answer.

  
You nod quickly though you can barely bring yourself to say the name aloud.  “Alfrid,” your voice, caught between tears and disgust, falters.

  
Storming towards the hearth, Bard rolls off the bed without another word to you.  His focus trained solely on the fire before him.

   
Your resolve not to cry crumbles at the sight of his actions.  You beg him to come back, to come to you.  He stays by the fire, his breaths so heavy you can see the slow rise and fall of his chest.  

  
“Do you approve the match?”  Is all he asks, his hands gripping the mantle of the fireplace, his knuckles nearly white.  He is losing the struggle to keep his anger out of his voice, but he struggles nonetheless out of his love for you.  He does not want to upset you further.

  
“Of course I don’t,” you sob, throwing your legs over the side of the bed, so you are now sitting on the edge.  “I can’t stand him, he may not be cruel but nor is he kind, he is greedy and rude and . . . and . . . and,” the tears fall freely down your cheeks now.  As you struggle to find the right words  “He’s not you.” You finally cry out.

  
Upon hearing your last words Bard finally turned, shifting his eyes from the flames to you.  “Marry me then,” he says softly.

   
“What?” you sniffle in surprise once you manage to stop the tears.

  
“Marry me,” he begs.  “I may not be a rich man, and I don’t have much.   I can’t offer you anything like what you’re use to.  But I will always make sure you are provided for, and no man will ever love you as much I love you.  I have some money saved up, it’s not much but it’ll be enough for a house big enough for the both of us.  So don’t marry Alfrid.  Marry me.”  He comes closer to you, until he is kneeling before you.  “I’d be a good husband,” Bard assures you.

  
 “The best,” you agree with new tears in your eyes.  “Although I can’t say I’d make a good wife.  I can’t cook, and I can’t mend your clothes when they have holes in them.”  You confess.  

  
“You’d make the perfect wife for me,” he wiped the tears that lingered on your cheeks with the nails of his thumbs.  “I didn’t fall in love with your cooking or your mending.  I fell in love with your fiery spirit and your gentle heart – that’s why I wanna marry you.”  Taking your hands in his he began kissing each of the tips of your fingers.  “I want to come home to you everyday, go to bed with you every night, and wake up to you every morning from now until the end of my days.  No more sneaking, no more hiding, no more fear, I want us to build a life for ourselves beyond these four walls.”  He gripped your hand tighter, his eyes imploring you to reply.

  
“You couldn’t have thought of all this a month ago, before I brewed that sleeping draught,” you grinned impishly at him.

  
“Is that a yes?”  He asked as his entire face lit up with excitement at the prospect of you accepting his proposal.

  
“Yes Bard, I will marry you,” you barely get the words out before he flies up, kissing you once more.  As if there could ever have been a doubt in your mind that you would say anything other than yes.  Evidently your fiancé was less convinced, judging from the way he kept your head cradled in his hands as relief and pure bliss washed across his face like a mighty wave.

  
Your fingers thread themselves through his so yours hands are firmly laced together as the two of you fall back on to the bed once more, his weight pressing comfortably down on you.  

  
“Now what?”  You ask after finally breaking the kiss.  Caressing the side of his face with the crook of your index finger, you wondered what the next step would be for you and your husband to be.  

  
“Now,” he murmured pensively for a moment.  “I am going to have my way with my future wife,” Bard whispers dangerously in your ear, making your giggle in delight.  “Then once you have been fully sated, many times over, we will begin planning our wedding.”


End file.
